


Drowning

by writeitgood018



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, TW: possible suicidal intent, don’t read if this worries you, seriously, tw: anxiety, tw: depression, tw: substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitgood018/pseuds/writeitgood018
Summary: Racetrack was drowning. His lungs were filling, chest caving in, breaths taking rather than giving. He was choking, he was suffocating, he was dying.This was it.And then his head broke through the surface of the water, and everything was okay. Everything was okay, and nothing was okay.His head hung low over mottled, bony knees, arms wrapped loosely around his shivering torso. His breaths came in gasps, water dribbling from the corner of his mouth.In his head, he was still drowning.





	Drowning

**Author's Note:**

> once again: if any of the listed tags or summary content might trigger you: Do Not Read. if you’re fine, then enjoy. this is a sad little fic with a hopeful ending.

Racetrack was drowning. His lungs were filling, chest caving in, breaths taking rather than giving. He was choking, he was suffocating, he was dying. 

This was it.

And then his head broke through the surface of the water, and everything was okay. Everything was okay, and nothing was okay. 

His head hung low over mottled, bony knees, arms wrapped loosely around his shivering torso. His breaths came in gasps, water dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

In his head, he was still drowning. 

* * *

It took awhile for him to pull himself out of the bathtub. To gather the strength to stretch out his dripping limbs, clamber to his feet unsteadily, step over the porcelain wall. Wrap himself in a towel that was as soft as the tub was dry, fraying edges brushing against his pale skin. The fingertips that held it in place were wrinkled from too much time soaking in the water. 

In his head, he was still drowning. 

He dried himself off, scrubbing the linen across his head and face and hair, none too gentle. He liked feeling something, anything. Even if it hurt. 

In his head, he was still drowning. 

He didn’t bother looking in the mirror. He didn’t clean the fog off the smooth surface, just drained the tub and walked out. 

His room was only paces away, and he let the towel drop once he was inside. He changed slowly, opening drawers and pulling out clothes only for them to be discarded. Not that shirt. No. No. Not that one either. Okay, fine, that one. Not those shorts. No shorts. Sweats. Not that pair. This one. The soft, bulky clothes couldn’t cut the chill from his bones. 

He walked to the bed, lay down. He stared at the ceiling, closed his eyes. Opened them again. He thought he could hear the tap dripping. He walked to the bathroom to find out, to see that he was wrong. Just his imagination. 

In his head, he was walking to the kitchen. His feet followed the familiar pattern, doing the same in reality. In his head, he was opening the medicine cabinet. In reality, he sat down at the table. In his head, he was pulling out a prescription bottle. In reality, he was picking up the phone. 

_ He was unscrewing the lid.  _

He was dialing a familiar number. 

_He was emptying it into his hand._

He was praying the other person would answer. 

_He was filling up a glass of water._

He was waiting. 

_He was swallowing the blue beads down, drinking the entire glass._

He was sick of water. 

And then, an answer. 

“Hello? Racer?”

Spot. It was Spot. 

He was silent. 

“Race? Are you okay? Are you there?”

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t make himself, couldn’t let the words come out. 

In his head, he was still drowning. 

Looking up through the blue waters, sinking, sinking down. Too far. Not enough air. Not enough time. 

Looking up through the blue waters, at a lifeline. A buoy, right in front of him. If he would take it. If he could—

“Spot,” he managed to croak out. “Spot.”

“Hey. Hey, hey, are you okay? Okay, dumb question. I know— what do you need? What can I do?”

The phone was like oxygen to his lungs, clutching it close to his chest.

He licked his lips, so dry, so chapped. He was afraid to speak too loud.

“Can you just— can you just stay on the line? I need— I need someone right now. I need you right now.”

A beat of silence. 

“Of course. Do you want me to come over?”

“Would you?”

“Of course, Racer. Always. I’m on my way, okay? Just stay on the line.”

Race nodded into the phone, head slumped against the handheld device. 

Just stay on the line. Just breathe. Just stay on the line. Everything was going to be okay, eventually. He was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys liked it? sorry my last two sprace fics have made race so sad :/ hopefully i’ll get around to writing a more lighthearted one soon!


End file.
